No tears
by lunae lecem
Summary: 'Shh, no tears, my son. Boys don't cry.' Guy's last moments with his parents.


**Disclaimer: I do not own The Croods.**

* * *

"It's okay everything is going to be alright."

The gruff voice of his father made the sentence sound harsh rather than reassuring. Guy stood at the edge of the tar pit as he watched his parents slowly sink into the dark pool. "But you are sinking," he said.

"We know, we know, but it's alright, we're going to get out. Everything will be just fine." An obvious lie even he himself wasn't inclined to buy. He had seen mammoths and saber-tooth tigers fall into this trap before. None ever got out alive. What was once to him a great advantage during his many hunting trips had now turned against him in a series of unfortunate events.

* * *

One misstep. That was all it took. She knew from the start that it was a bad idea to travel at night. Blame her stubborn and idiotic husband for insisting that they continued their journey after sunset. _"We can travel by moonlight. We'll be fine. Come on!" We'll be fine, indeed, _she thought. At least their child was safe.

* * *

Guy stood on the bank, utterly unconvinced by his father's assurance, if one could call it that. After all, it didn't take a genius to figure out that once you get in, you're never getting out. His father's extra-wide grin and his mother's overly enthusiastic nodding only made him even more nervous.

He himself had narrowly escaped his parents' fate. It was near impossible to make out the tar pit's dark edges in the dead of the night. If it wasn't for his parents' shouts of warning and frantic arm movements, right now, he too, would be stuck in the tar from his waist down. The only moment where his habit of straying from his parents ever benefited him, he mused.

"I'm going to pull you out." It didn't matter that his father had repeatedly said that it wouldn't work. He was not going down without a fight. "If I could just find something to pull them out with…maybe a branch? Or, err, some vine?" he muttered under his breath as he began searching his surroundings for said items.

After feeling around with his hands, some stumbling and occasional tripping, Guy finally made it back to the tar pit, a length of vine in hand. He gripped one end of the makeshift rope tightly and tossed the other end to his father, who caught it instinctively. "Hang in there, Papa, I'll pull you out," he cried out, and proceeded to tug at his end of the vine with all his might. But, with the strength of a 7-year-old, he might as well be trying to drag a mountain halfway across the continent for all the progress he was making.

After several minutes of heaving and pulling, he had only succeeded in exhausting himself. Yet, it wasn't until he had used up every ounce of energy in his thin arms did he finally stop, his skinny legs buckling beneath him. "Guy, it's no use. This wouldn't work. Don't strain yourself. You'll need your strength for real emergencies," his mother spoke up watching her son as he struggled to catch his breath. Goodness knows what may be lurking in the shadows at this hour. Guy wondered briefly why on Earth hadn't his mother consider the situation they were in a real emergency. "Listen to your mother, boy. Conserve your energy. You'll be needing it if we're attacked," the man chimed. He and his wife may be doomed, but his son need not be.

"But what about…" Guy was confused as to how his parents were planning to get away in the event of an attack, seeing as they were currently stuck in a pit, with tar rising up to the chest. His eyes widened with horror as the implications started to sink in. "No…I'm not…leaving you…" Guy panted out. "I can…do this…" It was meant to be encouragement both to himself as well as his parents. "I'm not giving up…I'M NOT GIVING UP!" The last phrase he shouted as he stood up, frustrated at his parents' lack of support and belief in him. He picked up the vine with renewed vigour, only to realise that his father was holding on to the other end no longer.

"Guy," the elder man sighed. "This black pool is what we as hunters use to trap our prey. You must have seen it during our hunting trips together. Nothing comes out alive." Guy continued to stare at his father, uncomprehending. "But…" "Don't you get it? WE ARE NEVER GETTING OUT!" Guy was taken aback. This is the first time his father had ever raised his voice at him. Looking at his son's shocked expression the man seemed to regret his outburst. "No, no, I mean…" he tried to correct his mistake, but words cannot be taken back. "It's okay, Papa. I get it." Guy mumbled, cutting off his father.

* * *

Silence. No words were exchanged between the young boy and his parents. The only sounds they could hear was the sickening bubbling of the tar pit. Guy fell to the ground, defeated, tears beginning to pool around the corners of his eyes. The woman, sensing her son's distress, did her best to comfort her child. "Shh, no tears, my son. Boys don't cry." Her soothing tones rang loud and clear amidst the silence of the night. Guy looked up and met his mother's compassionate gaze before nodding and hastily wiping away his tears.

The night was strangely quiet. No wild beast howled in the full moon. No bird cried out in the dark. No leaves rustled in the still forest. It was just him sitting on the bank, his unfocused eyes gazing in the direction of his doomed parents. Silence had never been this deafening.

Soon, his eyelids began to droop. Maybe it was his earlier efforts that had driven him to exhaustion, or perhaps it was to escape the unbearable silence of the unnaturally calm night. Or maybe, dare he say it, it was boredom that had caused his sleepiness, but he had the sudden urge to curl up on the ground and sleep. He tried to fight it – what if his parents…left, and he wasn't with them during their final moments? As he soldiered on, he heard his father, out of the blue, telling him to get some sleep and replenish his energy. He protested, but some part of him felt relieved. Maybe he should give in…no, what was he thinking? He will stay up and send his parents off properly (as depressing as that sounds). It was the least he could do.

Some time passed. It could have been a few minutes, or an hour, maybe even two. He was yawning excessively, eyelids threatening to close. He doesn't think he could hold on much longer. "Mama, Papa?" The couple, who were leaning against each other, jerked their heads up. "Yes, my boy?" asked the man. "…Could you promise to stay with me until I wake up?" The child's innocent eyes were full of anxiety, as though afraid that his request would be denied. It was heart-wrenching. The couple looked at each other, tears welling in their eyes, before fixing their gazes at the boy. "Of course my dear," the woman assured. "It's a promise, then," Guy replied, looking somewhat relieved before lying down on the forest floor beside the pit and allowing sleep to wash over him.

* * *

He awoke to a bright orange beam. The sun was rising between the mountains, its rays spreading out in all directions. It was a breathtaking scene, one that symbolizes new beginnings new hopes. He had always loved sunrises. It certainly fits well with the concept of 'Tomorrow', one that his father had always preached. But today, he hated it. The aftermath of yesterday's events was illuminated by the radiant sunbeam, the ugly truth he was so desperate to deny. In the tar pit he saw no parents' smiling faces greeting him when he woke up. Instead, a single hand – his mother's – stood in the spot where his parents should have been. The beam of sunlight that had shone on his face had passed through the gaps of his mother's fingers. Her hand appears to be glowing. It was beautiful, in a sick, perverted way.

He sat up and stared at her hand for the longest time, watching the remnants of his parents sink below the depths. He remained transfixed at the spot long after the hand had disappeared from view, a blank mask on his face. Then something snapped within him. He started screaming wildly, at the pit, at the sun, at everything. He took off, running towards where he cared not. All that mattered was getting as far away from the macabre scene as physically possible.

He finally collapsed somewhere in the forest when his legs absolutely refused to cooperate any more. A stinging sensation assaulted his nasal cavity as he panted heavily. _Shh, no tears, my son. Boys don't cry._ "Boys don't cry. Boys don't cry," he chanted like a mantra in between breaths. A tear slid stubbornly down his cheek, soon to be joined by a second. Then he broke down. What was the point of holding back? He cried for his parents, cried for himself, cried at the injustice of this cruel world…

The rising sun continued its journey across the sky, oblivious to the plight of the young boy, who continued sobbing himself back to unconsciousness.

* * *

**Author's notes: I've had this for years now, so I figured, what the heck. My interest in this movie is pretty much nil at this point of time, so minimal editing has been done. Not my best, and,uh...okay, I'll admit this was quite a crappy attempt. Still, I hope you'll enjoy. **

**Have a nice day. Don't let this sorry excuse of a fanfic burn your eyeballs out.**


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